


Speaking Without Words

by CuppyCake5



Category: Lawless (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuppyCake5/pseuds/CuppyCake5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set up like my Warrior fic. The reader is the role of the woman in the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speaking Without Words

Forrest is a man who moves at his own pace. You can count on one hand the amount of times he’s moved fast. Even when he’s fighting, he has a way of moving slowly. But you’ve always felt it’s spoken to his personality. He’s always calm, patient, in control. It’s just his way. And no matter how much you egg him on, no matter how much you beg, he’s not going to move faster. You watch impatiently from the bed, frowning at his back, as he moves at a snail pace. He knows that you’re waiting for him.

But he’ll continue to make you wait. You watch, annoyance bubbling in the pit of your stomach, as he slowly pulls his shirt from where it’d been tucked, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Rolling over, you turn your back to him. He can take his time, that’s fine. It’s frustrating how long it is before you feel the bed dip with his added weight, before you feel his calloused hand pulling your body slowly towards his.

With a sigh, you let him pull you until your back is to his chest, but you don’t help him move you. After all, he’s the one who moves so slowly. He takes his time, simply letting his lips rest against the back of your shoulder while his thumb strokes back and forth along your hip. After all these years, he still doesn’t seem to grasp the fact that every touch, every caress sets your skin on fire. Or he does and simply enjoys dragging it out.

“Forrest.” Your voice, though quiet, is heavy with want. In typical Forrest Bondurant style, he only grumbles out ‘mmm’ in acknowledgement that he’s heard you. But that voice. That deep, rough voice, sounding as if it’s been dragged through gravel, does things to you. His voice has more effect on you than his touch. Enough that it makes you finally around to face him. Your sudden movement makes Forrest freeze, watching you, waiting to see if you’ll do something else.

When you don’t, his arm wraps around your back. His lips ghost along your should, his fingers skim up and down your spine. Infuriating as Forrest’s pace is, it’s endearing. He’s a man of few words, choosing to speak volumes with his actions. So you know that when his lips brush against your skin, he’s confessing his love for you. When his fingers graze your body, you hear him telling you that he needs you. And at night when you finally feel his body against yours, you know he’s saying he wants you.

And when he pulls you on top of him, the blankets falling away from your body, you know he’s telling your beautiful, that he wants to see, all of you. You take your time, position yourself comfortably, loving the feel of his eyes on you. You’d be lying if you said the intensity of it, the unspoken truths behind his looks, weren’t enough to make you blush. But when you try duck your face, his gentle finger lifts your chin.

You revel in the feeling of his hardened hand stroking down the middle of you chest, the other gentle on your hip. There’s something sweet about this man’s hands. You’ve seen the damage they can do. You’ve seen the blood they’ve spilled. And they’re rough from the physical labor they’ve done. But when they’re on you, when they touch you, you never knew a person could be so tender. And it’s made sweeter knowing that you’re the only one who gets to know Forrest like this.

When you’ve allowed Forrest enough time to speak with his hands, you begin to move on him. With your hands pressed against his chest for balance, you roll your hips slowly. Not that Forrest would allow you any other speed, his hands holding you. But he was still letting you to do your work as he lay there, simply too transfixed with body. Which only worsened when you moved your hands on top of his to better his view. You know he appreciates it when you hear that gravel voice mummer.

You take that moment, when his view of your body has him forgetting about the control he needs so much, to quicken your pace and roll your hips harder against him. Despite the fact that he’s not losing himself in you the way men before him had, not throwing his head back and moaning and gripping hard enough to leave bruises, you love it. You love the way his eyes never leave your body. You love that you know the hitches in his breath are for your ears only. And you love that Forrest would never mark your body.

As you grip his wrists, you move faster and harder. He may not lose control of himself, but he’s lost control of you, of this moment. And the fact that he’s not trying to gain it back. Going so far as let go of your hips entirely, essentially handing over control entirely. And that’s just as good. His hands slide up your body, resting on either side of your neck. As his thumbs stroke your jaw, he gently pulls you towards him for a kiss. And like anything else the man does, Forrest kisses slowly.

But you can’t bring yourself to mind. Not when his tongue traces your lips. Not when his gently brushes against yours. Not when the touch of his full lips is sending shivers down your spine. And not when kissing while you’re on him offers a new angle, one that leaves you both breathless. It has your hips moving faster still, demanding more of Forrest. Pressing your foreheads together, your hot, desperate breath mingles with his. Wrapping a hand to the back of his neck, you quietly moan, 'Forrest'.

One of his hands disappears from neck, sliding down your shoulder. Down your chest. Down your stomach. Down until he has you between his thumb and pointer finger, rolling you back and forth, stroking you, toying with you. It’s enough for you. It’s exactly what you needed. Forrest always knows exactly what you need. As you shudder, body tightening around him, you feel Forrest spasm, holding your body tight to his.

You stay like that, laid on top of Forrest. His fingers gentle as they stroke your side, his lips resting upon your shoulder. Whispering words he’ll never say.


End file.
